Fever (Stockholm Syndrome)
by OnecingWitt
Summary: (Modern AU) Jack was kidnapped from his adopted family and presumed dead. Or so they thought. The man who took him actually has no desire in killing. As Jack's mind begins to warp around the drugs and the effects of SS, his thoughts of home begin to fade. (Warning: lemons, non-con, drugging, obsession, more) You have been warned. Pretty dark. Jackrabbit, Blackice.
1. Club Dancing

"Jack," came the Russian voice of his dad, "you forgot to take out the trash, again!"

Said fifteen-year-old groaned and flopped his head down into his pillow. Again with the nagging. His phone buzzed.

"I will," he called back, "just a minute."

Jack looked back to his phone, noticing he had a text. The teen opened it with the tap of his thumb, watching the message window overtake his screen as the text was displayed for him, along with a wall of contact with whoever sent it. He smiled when he read the name atop the window.

 _"Bunny: hey frosty"_

Jack quickly began to type with his skilled thumbs, and tapped 'send'.

 _"Me: sup bunny ;)"_

Just as the little _'seen at 7:23pm'_ appeared at the bottom, his dad called up the stairs again for him to do his chore before he loses his screen time for the next week. He groaned again, put his phone under his pillow and rolled off his messy bed. His chocolate brown hair was messed up in the movement, but he just ruffled it more and pulled on his usual brown hoodie. After adjusting the baggy blue jeans and putting on a darker blue beanie he ventured to the stairs, hopping up on the railway and sliding down to the entrance of the house.

He nearly ran into his sister, who was playing with her dolls at the foot of the stairs. She was playing dentist again.

"Watch it, Baby Tooth," he used her nickname as he stepped over her, "you'll get flattened next time."

She took his advice and moved her toys to the living room.

Jack peeked outside and noticed it was snowing again. That made him grin like a child, and he quickly bounded to the kitchen and hefted the trash bag out of the container to haul it outside. He shivered slightly and his feet/fingers felt a little numb from the cold, but he didn't mind. He loved the snow, the cold winds and the happy faces that accompanied winter. His big Russian dad liked it, too, since the holidays were when his huge toy company made out like bandits.

His dad was a big, big guy with an equally huge beard and muscles. He could do the best Santa Clause impression you'd ever seen, and he was jolly enough to suit. His company, North Pole's Toys, had been around for who knows how long. The company was passed down through the generations of his family, and Jack suspected it would fall upon him too when he became the right age.

His mom, on the other hand, was a sunny and energetic woman that ran a dentist office. Since it was called "Tooth Fairy's Headquarters", they often referred to the dentists working in the office branches as "the Fairies". Bebe, or Baby Tooth, was Jack's clingy little sister and future dentist for the Fairies. She had the biggest admiration for him because of his infamous pearly whites, and often compared them to the freshly fallen snow.

Jack hummed a rock tune he liked as ventured back into the house and up to his room, taking the steps two at a time.

When he face planted back onto his bed and looked at his phone again, sure enough his older love had texted him back.

 _"Bunny: ya wont blv who came to my shop 2day"_

 _"Me: who was it?"_

Jack waited for him to respond and reached into the bag of chips beside his bed, munching on one and listening to the crunch from his sparkling molars. His room was a mess, as you'd expect from a teenager. Posters, clothes and junk lay all around, barely patches of his baby blue rug visible beneath the piles of stuff. His sledding gear was against the cluttered desk, his snowboard was behind the TV, and his favorite ice skates were hanging over his desk chair. Yep, a total mess. But he liked it that way.

 _"Bunny: some sheila that tried to get my nmbr"_

Jack crinkled his rosy nose at that, and an instinctive pout came to his lips. Jealousy came easy for the boy.

 _"Me: u didn't give it to her right?"_

 _"Bunny: course not frostbite! u think id cheat on you"_

 _"Me: I hope not! cuz you know id get super mad if you did"_

 _"Bunny: relax frosty you know I wldnt"_

Jack took a second to think about that, and relaxed when he came to the same conclusion. He smiled again, and texted back.

 _"Me: yea ur right. srry bout that I just get jealous"_

 _"Bunny: its aight Jackie I know you do lol"_

 _"Me: haha"_

Jack turned onto his side, the phone close, and felt giddy as he resumed to text him. This went on for a while until he glanced at his phone's clock. He quickly noticed at it was now 10:41pm. Time really flew by whenever he texted his tattooed lover.

 _"Me: k I'm going now, meet ya there k?"_

 _"Bunny: sure cya there"_

Jack could hear his parents' snores through the thin wall, and he knew that Bebe was put to bed an hour ago, so he quietly crept out of bed and slipped his sneakers on. He wrote out a note quickly and made his way down the stairs, careful not to make them creak too loudly. He slipped his scarf on, left the note on the kitchen counter, and slipped out of he house with a click as it locked behind him.

He carefully weaved his way through the shrubs out front, then walked normally once he got to the sidewalk. He adjusted his beanie from the night wind as he strolled from his house and towards the park. He hummed again, hands stuffed into his pockets to keep warmth inside.

Along the way he passed one of many coffee houses, of which his was his favorite. They served the best minty foam lattes, and if you turned in your phone at the front you'd get a discount for socialization. It was a homey place, and he often stopped there after school to chat up a friend that worked there; Jamie. They met and had been best friends ever since Jack first moved to the little town. Before Jamie, none of the other students at his school would talk to Jack or even acknowledge him. It was apparently a joke, they acted like he was invisible to mess with the new kid. But Jack hated it.

Thinking back on those early school days made Jack feel a little lonely again. He was completely lonesome during the days that he spent as the invisible boy, and after the second week he couldn't take it anymore. He came home crying and told his parents what was going on, and they made an appointment with the principle to stop the bullying, followed by a discussion between more than a hundred parents during a school meeting. After that the kids began to talk to Jack, and he met Jamie, who claimed he only went along with the trend because his other friends told him Jack didn't exist, that the rumor of a new kid was just that, a rumor.

The two had hung out for lunch and recess, and became best friends almost overnight. Ever since then Jack was never alone. He had his family, friends and lover to see and acknowledge him. However, that prank had awakened a new fear for the boy. He became terrified of being alone or forgotten. So jealousy and attitude came into his daily behavior as a means to protect himself.

He was pulled from his thoughts when the park came into view, and he looked around for Bunnymund's truck. He found it parked and with a familiar figure leaning against it, drinking something from a bottle. He grinned and jogged over, tackling the older teen in a bone-crushing hug.

"Bunny~" Jack cooed.

"Whoa, mate," Bunny was startled by the sudden contact, "you scared me."

Jack clasped his arms around the taller boy's shoulders, on his tip toes and trying to kiss him with smoochy lips. Bunny smiled, put down his Dr. Spice on the hood of the truck and bent down to close the gap. Their lips connected. Jack's cool and soft, Bunnymund's warm and more tough yet chapped.

Bunny's arms went around the boy's waist to pull him close, their tongues mingling in the soft kiss. It was short lived when the bigger male broke it and motioned to the truck.

"Let's go, mate," he winked.

Jack happily climbed up into the passenger's seat. "Bun Bun, I can stay over tonight..~" he teased, "they'll think I left for school early."

Bunny grinned and started up the truck, pulling out of the park and getting on the road. "I told you not to call me that," he muttered under his breath.

"There's a change of clothes in the bag there," Bunny motioned to the plastic at Jack's feet, "you should put that on."

"Did you finish the fake ID?" Jack inquired as he pulled the bag into his lap and rummaged through it.

Bunny nodded, " 'course, it's in there too."

Jack grinned again as he located the card that said he was eighteen, with a photo to match. He leaned over and pecked his love on the cheek, excitedly pulling his scarf and hoodie off. Bunny stole glances at his pale torso and practically purred jokingly.

Jack pulled on the denim jacket with black sleeves, dark tank top, baggy cargo pants, brown high-tops, and tan mirrored shade sunglasses. It was sort of difficult in the limited space, but he managed. He looked good. He tucked the fake ID into his breast pocket and took a moment to study what Bunny was wearing.

The eighteen year-old was in a denim vest, no shirt, to show off the tattoos on his arms and torso. Also some hot damaged jeans that made a spectacle of his shapely, muscled legs. Jack licked his lips.

"You look good," Bunny complimented, "that outfit cost bloody big bikkies."

"Where'd you buy it?" Jack asked, putting the shades on his head.

"Woaker's." Bunny answered, almost smugly.

"Woaker's?" Jack's jaw fell open, "How did you even get in there? It's always way too crowded."

Bunny simply winked and put a finger to his lips. Jack pouted, but smiled after and put his seat belt back on.

Jack turned on the radio for some background noise as he chatted with his lover about everything that's happened since they last snuck out together. Bunny was happy to ask questions and give his opinions, he was not the type to pretend to listen. Jack told him about his grade boost from a C to a B- in biology, Bebe sneaking into his room to cuddle two nights ago and the accident she had on his floor, about how his mom's workers were given a raise and that he fell in love with three more music groups that he couldn't wait to show him later. He talked for what felt like forever.

Eventually he settled down though, and they decided to turn up the music and jam out to the beat. Bunny tapped on the steering wheel and Jack exclaimed the lyrics.

"So light 'em up, up, up, light 'em up, up up, light 'em up, up, up, I'm on fire!" Jack sang joyously, repeating the chorus. His voice was downright terrible, but he didn't give two shits about that.

The car ride lasted a small while, and Jack excitedly watched out the window as the buildings and roads passed by. Their destination finally came into view, and he cheered. Bunnymund pulled into the crowded parking lot, putting on his own shades and ruffling his blue/greenish hair. Jack got out and hopped a few times while gripping the hem of the jeans, attempting to adjust them, looking forward to this extremely. He hugged Bunny's large arm, tugging him towards the entrance.

After getting their IDs approved, the pair made their way into the huge, loud and bustling club. Jack tangled his fingers with Bunny's, looking around with huge oaky eyes. Bunny chuckled and lead them to the dance floor. Immediately Jack began to dance, grooving to the music and trying to show off his skills to the Aussie. Bunnymund grabbed Jack by the waist and started up a different kind of dance, which Jack eagerly got into.

Within thirty minutes they were full-on grinding together. Jack smirked as he bent his knees at his sides and lowered, coming back up with his hands on Bunny's legs, tracing up, up. Because of their height difference, Bunny's crotch went into Jack's stomach, making the smaller boy happily and teasingly slide his hand across it. Then he turned around and began to dance more seductively. He belly danced and grinded on Bunny, who held his hips, and made a show out of it. He traced his own hands down the inside of his thighs, down his knees, and back up his hips to grace over Bunny's hands. A few other couples watched them and were surprised that a younger boy was being so seductive, but they also liked the show and took it as an invitation to dance this way with their own partners.

Jack bent down low, rear to Bunny's body, with his hand down the insides of his thighs. He shifted his shoulders as he straightened back up, tilting his head back to look up at Bunny. His boyfriend took his chin and gave an upside-down kiss on his frosty lips, hands coming down to hold his sides gently. Then he turned Jack around and pulled their bodies together, grinding slower in a circle. Jack hummed below the pounding music and tried to add more friction to his lower section instinctively. Bunny was happy to

accommodate, hands moving to settle on Jack's backside, making the boy wrap his arms around his middle.

 _Meanwhile..._

The shadowy grunts carefully observed the dancing pair. Both were in black from head to toe, including their sunglasses. They had the elegant yet frightening features of finely bred horses, and the reputations of nightmares. They kept their keen eyes trained on the small boy with chocolate hair.

"The boy is in our sights," one reported into their radio, "but he's guarded."

 _"Don't let the boy out of your sight."_

"Yes, sir." They put away the radio.


	2. Games

**(Chapter contains a softcore lemon. Deeper/detailed Lemons come later.)**

Jack and Bunny danced suggestively for about another hour before Jack felt the call of the wild. It hit him suddenly, from not a care in the world to suddenly needing to shove everyone aside and make a beeline for the nearest urinal, as if his bladder was an overinflated water balloon that someone was nearing with a needle. It wasn't long before his sexy dance became the potty dance, and he rushed away from the crowded dance floor to relieve himself after telling Bunny he needed a leak.

Jack could feel the pressure and slight pain in his urine sack, and that motivated him to slip between couples and minimize contact in order to complete his mission. He could see the neon sign from there. _Restrooms._ Why were they called that if you never rested in one? You just ran in, did your business, pretended to wash your hands and got the hell out. And that was exactly what Jack was bursting to do, _right now._

He finally made it to the bathroom and hastily unzipped his cargo pants, holding himself at the perfect angle, and...

"Ahhh..." he let out a relieved sound, emptying his bladder into the urinal. "Finally.."

When the stream stopped and he wiped himself clean, he flushed the urinal and washed his hands swiftly. Now all he wanted was to get back to the party. He heard the door open and two sets of footsteps come in, but as he attempted to slip by, one grabbed his arm and shoved him back into the bathroom while the other shut the swinging door.

"Hey, what the fuck?" He cursed, glaring at the two with confusion.

"Just keep quiet," the man holding the door hissed, dressed in a black tank top and slacks. "don't make this more difficult than it has to be."

The other reached for his arm again, his other hand delved into his jacket, but as Jack cried out another swear the stall door opened and a burly man hastily zipping up his shorts stepped out, his hair combed back and skin a deep ebony color.

He shoved the offender away before he could lay a hand on Jack, and grabbed the other by the collar to tear him away from the door. He shouted some things about harassing young boys and ushered Jack out, always staying between them. Jack expected a huge fight to ensue, but to his shock, the two offenders just halted and put up their hands in defeat, allowing Jack to scurry out.

Jack wasted no time as he scrambled back to Bunny, rubbing his arm a little from the brute's strength, but he just shivered it off. He wouldn't let it ruin their night. He located his Aussie and approached, pressing right up against him and blinking thickly.

"Miss me?" he winked, though glancing away to keep an eye on the hallway that lead to the restrooms while his heart thumped.

"Always, Jackie." The Aussie groped his ass again.

A few more hours passed by, and with no activity from the two assholes as they passed through the crowd and out the door, Jack decided to pull Bunny to the wall and press his own back to it, his hands at his lover's shoulders to pull him down into a kiss. Bunny gladly returned the contact with passion, their lips moving together as he held Jack by his ribs. Their tongues mingled and played together, Jack's luring the other into the warm and wet cavern as he traced Bunny's teeth lightly. Bunny got back at him by tickling the roof of Jack's mouth with his own wiggly organ, making the boy giggle slightly and pull Bunny closer. The kiss gained heat and intensity as the two swapped saliva and began to kiss more roughly.

Bunny bit down on Jack's lower lip, gently, and tugged it. Jack returned it by nibbling Bunny's tongue playfully. The man ground against him again as they made out, and eventually decided to excite his little troublemaker. Bunny held his ass again but began to rub it slightly as he moved his lips from Jack's and down his jaw, to his neck. The boy instinctively hummed and tilted his head to give him more access. Bunny licked teasingly up his neck, under his chin, and trailed kisses back down it to the corner of his collarbone. Jack breathed out with a flutter in his vocals.

"Bunny...~" he smirked.

Said Aussie smiled against his flesh and began to suck a hickey into it. Jack moaned, he loved when Bunny marked him like that.

"Let's get 'outta here.." the boy said teasingly, "...and get some privacy."

"I like the way you think, mate," Bunny pulled his head back and straightened up, arm pulling Jack close as they began to walk towards the entrance of the club. Jack gave him a playful hip bump when Bunny slipped his hand into Jack's back pocket as they walked.

 _Meanwhile..._

The pair winced as they got an earful from their boss about letting the boy slip away from them in the bathroom. He lectured them about their competence, and that they disgraced his company by letting one of their best chances to snatch the boy be taken from them. He warned them to bring the boy to him without injury or else they'd be sorry. The two shared a glance when he hung up the radio, and they quickly shared a sigh of relief when the chewing out ended.

They saw the boy climb into the truck with the man across the parking lot and wasted no time in getting their own vehicle revved up to follow them. When the truck pulled out of the parking lot, the SUV followed a few cars behind.

 _Meanwhile..._

Bebe lay awake in her bed, stuffed rabbit close to her and staring at the ceiling. She didn't like the dark. The dark scared the little girl, and it brought her nightmares. Her adopted mom always held her and told her that the dreams weren't real, that they couldn't hurt her and that there was no such thing as the 'boogeyman'. But that did little to calm the girl, and she quietly shuffled out of her bed with her nightgown tickling her knees. She tucked a stray lock of brown behind her ear and slowly walked to her door.

She held the knob tightly and turned it, very slowly, as if the whole door would come off the hinges if she was too fast/rough with it. She looked at the empty hallway and stepped out, from her ticklish carpet to the cold hardwood floor. She tiptoed towards her brother's room and knocked gently on it, voice barely a whisper.

"Jack...?" she called but got no answer. She knocked again. Nothing.

Bebe figured that he was asleep and did not want her bother him, so she glumly returned to her own room.

 _Meanwhile..._

They had barely gotten into the house before Bunny pushed Jack down onto the bed, gently touching the boy's body. Jack moaned as they kissed and rubbed each other now that they had the privacy they needed. Bunny sucked on the boy's ear and nibbled the lobe, his Australian hands slipping under the denim vest to feel Jack's soft belly. He rubbed the warm and flat tummy as his kisses trailed down beneath Jack's ear and to his collarbone. Jack unbuttoned the vest and slipped it off, tossing it somewhere as Bunny shed his top to match. Now half naked, Jack ran a pale hand down his own side to tease the Aussie.

Bunny reacted by grinning and biting down on his collar, making Jack moan and giggle.

Before they knew it, Bunny was on his back and Jack was on top, undoing the Aussie's pants. He bent his head down and kissed the man's boxers, hearing the low rumble from his lover's chest. He kissed the fabric a few more times, then used his teeth to tug down the material. Bunny shivered when butterfly kisses were planted along him, and when a warm, wet feeling enclosed his member.

Jack rubbed him as his lips went to work. For a few minutes he kept a teasing pressure with his mouth, then eventually gave in to Bunny's moans and positioned himself above him, the two working together to get his cargo pants and navy boxers off. He only winced from the initial stretch of lubed digits worming into his stubborn body and coaching him open in order to take in something _much_ bigger.

Jack lowered after his hole was soaked and relaxed, and the two moaned together as the night of passionate love continued.

 _The next morning..._

Jack yawned and blinked awake as he felt the sun on his skin from the window. The curtains were tied back, and the solar energy sat on his naked torso to warm him. He adjusted himself on Bunny's chest to rub his eyes with a yawn. The Aussie was still asleep with his arms wound tightly around the boy. Jack rolled his eyes and squirmed to get free, and realized that if the sun was up he was most likely late for school. Hadn't he set the alarm on his phone for 6:10? He checked, but there was no such record on the timer app he used. Jack furrowed his oaky brows and got up quickly to make the second half of school.

Jack was about to pull his boxers back up but stopped when he felt something sticky and cold between his thighs. He groaned. Right. He'd need a shower first. Jack hopped into his lover's bathroom and took a quick shower to clean the cum off his body from last night. Bunny was like an animal, they went at it for hours until they finally called it quits for the night. Jack got dressed and made a beeline for the front door, then remembered to leave a note for Bunny. He spent about three minutes looking for a piece of paper and left the neatly written note on the microwave before leaving.

He made his way towards the school though he figured there was no point, now. Maybe he should just go to the arcade and dick around until school was out, and then hang around home to get to the phone before his parents could find out he missed school. He considered this plan and decided he had nothing to lose. Jack changed course and strolled less urgently towards the mall.

He felt around his pocket for coins but felt only a single paper bill. With a groan he decided two games would have to do, and watched the dollar disappear into the mechanical jaws of the ATM machine as four quarters dropped into the dip. He collected the coins with the swipe of his soft hand and strutted over to the arcade to play a game. Jack observed the games and tried to decide which would be worthy of his four quarters.

He settled on ski ball and a zombie shooter with some violent title.

Jack inserted his coins into the ski ball game and bowled a ball up the alley. He landed it into the 5-point hole and grinned to himself. He repeated the motion, but the ball rolled into the 1-point slot this time. His grin faded and a look of determination came in its stead. Jack began to bowl with more force in failed attempts to get the maximum point value, but the balls simply ricocheted back to him and he had to pull his hands up to avoid breaking a finger.

After ski ball, he picked up the gun for the zombie game and slid in the last of his quarters. He chose the haunted forest setting and readied himself to blast some headshots.

Jack watched as his first-person perspective scanned the trees during a cutscene. He kept his finger ready on the make-believe trigger and did not move from his prepared position. Jack noticed the rustling from the game before a horde of undead people in shredded suits came stumbling out of the brush. The cutscene ended and he began to fire for their bloody, mutilated vital spots. Electronic corpses dropped when shot sufficiently, and Jack could not help but ponder how his character was walking forward with a huge pile of zombies heaped at his feet. He missed one and it grabbed his leg, but Jack blew its brains out before it could bite him.

The horde was soon dealt with and Jack was given a shotgun as a reward, along with 500 Zombos. Zombos are some kind of currency in the game, used for buying more upgrades or extra lives. As Jack equipped his new weapon and a military vest, another cutscene came. This one depicted his character back at the base, but there was a scream as the ceiling caved in and the screen went black for a few seconds. When the picture returned Jack saw his persona beneath a pile of rubble with only a handgun near him, and a zombie fell from where the ceiling caved. It landed in front of him and quickly took notice of the trapped meal to be had. Jack's persona reached for the gun and realized there was only one bullet. The cutscene faded out and the game returned.

Just as Jack was about to shoot the creature in the head and secure his next checkpoint, someone startled him by tapping his shoulder and he missed the target. He made an exhausted noise and whined a bit about being so close to winning before he turned around to see who ruined his chances. And the boy was shocked to see his dad standing there with Bebe by the hand.

Jack swallowed. He was in trouble.


	3. Skating

Pitch sat in his drawing room, legs crossed in a snooty way as he flipped through the boy's file again. The man scratched his tan jaw and ran the same hand through his jet-black locks, the hair spiked backwards to a point. His suit was pristine, and his shoes spotless. He appeared so proper, no one would suspect how sadistic and nearly insane the man really was. He received more photos of the boy, club dancing suggestively and making out with the one called E. Aster Bunnymund.

Pitch felt a surge of sorts when he saw the picture of the boy kissing E. Aster. It made him frown, but not in disappointment. No. Something much worse. Pitch was _jealous._ Jackson North seemed to have the sweetest lips, so soft and irresistible. Pale pink and often pulled back over perfect teeth that sparkled. They were hypnotizing, probably intoxicating as well. But they were pressed against those of a tattooed Aussie that was 6"1 and most likely too rough with the boy. Blemishing his frosty skin with the vulgar hickeys and bruises. Such a thing caused Mr. Black to glare at the photos.

Though Mr. Pitch Black would never admit it, all of his underlings (dubbed such as _'the nightmares'_ ) could plainly see he was obsessed with the boy. They'd been stalking him for months to learn his routine; his pattern; so that they could find the best time to snatch him away. It wasn't until they sent their boss a photo of their target after learning his identity that he began to demand more pictures.

 _"for reference,"_ he said, _"so we don't lose sight of who we're looking for."_

The Nightmares knew full well that he wanted those pictures for himself. To admire and excite himself with until he received the real deal.

And he would not have to wait much longer for that.

 _Meanwhile..._

"Jack!" North angrily and sternly exclaimed to his son, "why you are not at school?"

"Dad?" Jack said quietly, feeling small and guilty, "What're you doing here?"

"What am _I_ doing here? What are _you_ doing here!" North demanded.

Jack had no real answer for that. What was he supposed to say? That he snuck out last night to meet his adult boyfriend and go to a night club even though he was underage, and missed school because he stayed over to have sex with said boyfriend? He might as well meet up with the reaper now because his parents would kill him for sure.

When Jack could give no answer, North took his arm and pulled him along with Bebe at his side. She held her new doll under her arm, frowning at her big brother for getting in trouble with their father. North tugged the teenager right out of the mall and to his big, red SUV. Jack was sternly put into the back seat with his sister as North turned on the car and drove home. He gave Jack a lecture all the way, too. About lying to his family just so he could skip school, and that his grades were suffering enough as it was.

Jack was silent, stubborn and embarrassed (not to mention bored) throughout this scolding. His thoughts traveled to the previous night and how much fun it was.

When they returned home Jack was forced to sit beside the phone and wait for school to call so that he'd have to answer it. He thought he could wait it out by playing on his phone, but it was taken from him and his dad grounded him from electronics for a week. Jack went to protest but decided that he did not want to be grounded for even longer and kept quiet. Next time, he would remember to set his alarm. Although he could have sworn that's what he did.

Jack sat there for hours, listening to his sister play and his father work. He hadn't been so bored in his whole life. He tapped against the counter and hummed to himself, glanced at the snow out the window closest to him, and thought about how he could sneak his phone back to talk to his friends. He was supposed to meet Jamie after school today, but now he was grounded. Way to go, frosty.

He had nearly dozed off with his head on the counter but was rudely awakened by the sharp electronic ringing. He huffed out a sigh and picked up the phone, putting it to his ear and listening to the electronic voice as it described every class he missed today. He wanted to hang up, but his father was standing in the doorway, eyes trained on the brunette boy, so he rolled his own caramel pools and listened to the entire message. Finally, after an eternity, he was permitted to hang up the phone. But his own was not returned to him as his big Russian father tucked it into his pocket.

"You can have it back in five days," he said, holding up the same number of fingers to demonstrate.

"Fine," Jack sighed, "whatever. I'm gonna go skating."

North considered that skating was not an electronic activity and granted him permission to go. However...

"You have to bring your sister, too," he added, "and be back before dark."

"What!" Jack exclaimed, "I don't want to bring her! I'll have to skate all slow and hold her hands!"

Usually, Jack wouldn't mind skating with Baby Tooth, but today he was irritated and just wanted to shred some ice to blow off steam. He wanted the thrill of the icy wind in his face and the freedom of speed, but Bebe couldn't keep up with him and usually stepped slowly along the border of the rink. He was in no mood to deal with that today. But his father did not budge, and Jack summited.

"Fine, fine," the teen sighed again, "I'll bring her."

"Good. You two have fun." North smirked and left.

Jack got up and stretched his arms, causing his back to crack a little, and took the stairs up to his room to grab his skates. He called for Baby Tooth and told her they were going skating, to which she happily grinned and moved some brunette hair away from her face. She got her skates as well and bundled up for the cold.

Once the siblings were bundled and ready they left the house, Jack holding his sister by the hand so as not to lose her, and they ventured towards the crowded town skating rink. They took a moment to slip their shoes off and replace them with the ice skates, and Jack helped her step onto the ice without falling from the sudden transition of dry to slippery.

Bebe held the wall and tried to get used to the ice while her brother did easy spins and figure eights in the small area close to her.

"You alright, Bebe?" he asked somewhat boredly, but with not as much of an attitude as before.

"I'm okay," she said, staring at her feet as she inched forward some more.

"Want some help?" he offered.

"Nuh-uh, I don't need help!" she shook her head quickly, nose getting rosy from the cold wind of the winter season.

Jack slowly skated alongside her for a few minutes before deciding to do two quick laps around the rink. He figured that by the time he'd be back to this spot she would only have moved a foot. He dug his skates into the ice and took off, weaving in between couples and dodging slowpokes. It felt like a moment from a sweet action movie. This was why he loved to skate, it always felt awesome. The area around his sister was still pretty clear, and he felt more at ease, so he decided he'd try to help her learn to skate like he did.

He glided over to her.

"Hey, Baby Tooth," he smiled, " 'wanna learn how to skate like me?"

She thought about it and noticed she was hugging the wall like a child. She nodded.

Jack took her hands and carefully slid her off the wall by a few feet, so she couldn't grab it. There was a foot of space between them.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Jack.. I'm scared..." She admitted, arms out a bit to balance herself.

"You're not gonna fall down, we're.. uh..." Lightbulb. "We're 'gonna have a little fun instead."

She eyed him carefully, and her face carried genuine childish fear that she was going to fall. That the ice would somehow break and she'd be swallowed up by the depths of the rink.

"Look," Jack resumed, "it's as easy as.. one," he glided back a little, "two," little more, "three." He slid a few feet away. "Now you try, okay?"

Bebe swallowed and put one foot out, but wobbled a bit and stiffened up. Jack counted for her.

"One," She said quietly as she readied for another step. "Two..."

"And..." Jack smiled through the people separating them, "Three!"

Bebe looked up at him and realized she had moved three feet by herself without the wall. She smiled big, excited, and Jack did too. He chuckled once and went to maneuver around the people between them. But before he could he was grabbed by the arms and harshly pulled away.

"Hey- let go of me!" His voice droned, steadily getting farther away.

"Jack!" Bebe called, heart immediately picking up as she stumbled and slipped on her skates, tumbling onto her hands and knees as her ankles throbbed to catch up to her brother. But when the crowd cleared Jack was gone, as were the black shadows that snatched him.


	4. Author's Note

**(I want to thank everyone for the views and feedback, it really means a lot to me. But I have to put a suspension on this for now to deal with my writer's block. Tests and crap have deep fried my brain into a crispy mess. My boyfriend suggested I write a blockbuster, and I decided to do that. So my updates will be delayed for ROTG between the chaps of my new material. Sorry for any inconvenience. -Oncewitt)**


	5. Help

Jack struggled fiercely as the two men pinned him down in the back of the van, his mouth covered by a large hand. Which he bit. The man seethed and took his hand off to flick the sting away from Jack's teeth, and the boy took that moment to scream at them.

"Get the fuck off me!" he thrashed and kicked, "I said get the fuck away, you fatass dicks! You heard me!"

"The little shit has quite the sharp tongue," a third person snarled, "I'd like to cut it off."

"Calm down, if we damage him the boss might cut off _our_ tongues," Someone interjected.

Jack could see four people in this van, one of which had him roughly pinned while two were at the passenger and driver seats. The last was digging through a bag out of his range of sight. When they moved close again, something was pressed to his nose and cry-hole tightly.

Jack took in a shocked breath and immediately regretted doing so as a sharp scent assaulted his brain and burnt his nostrils. His strength quickly began to deplete and his eyelids became heavy as lead, half-lidded with forced exhaustion. His screams died down to raspy breaths and the deep brown eyes shut entirely, body stilled.

When they were certain the boy was completely unconscious the men tied his wrists and ankles before getting into their seats, revving up the van and taking off.

 _Meanwhile..._

Bebe sobbed as she hobbled off of the ice to put her shoes on, cheeks stained with stinging tears of fear. She couldn't see her brother anywhere and didn't know the way home from the rink. She hiccuped and held her coat closer to her neck to warm it as she slipped into her shoes, skates being held in her little hand by the laces and dragging behind her a little.

She looked for anyone to help her, maybe an officer, but found no one close by and decided she needed to ask a stranger. Her dad's words echoed in her mind, telling her not to talk to strangers, but she had no other choice. She needed her brother.

So she sniffled and looked for anyone that seemed nice enough to help her. There were a lot of couples and families walking around, bags and boxes in their arms from their Christmas shopping. A lot of people seemed to be in a hurry and sped right past her before she could talk to them. She was minuscule compared to the giant adults and older children, so they didn't notice her for even a second.

She tried to hail down three more pairs, but they figured she was talking to someone else and kept on to resume their evening. Just when hope seemed lost, the shaken little girl spotted a family that were sitting at a bench, distributing bags and boxes among themselves.

They appeared to be a family of three, two charming parents and a little boy. The thing that stuck out to Bebe was that the boy had crazy red hair. It stuck out in a messy manner all over his head to match his orange jacket. He took two boxes from his mother and held them on his forearms to keep them from tipping.

Bebe decided to ask them for help, or at least to let her use their phone to call home.

She shyly waddled over to the trio, skates making a line in the packed snow behind her and eyes huge with tears. They didn't notice her at first, not until she uncertainly tugged on the mother's coat.

"E-excuse me.." she half whispered.

The woman looked down quickly at the small girl and an expression of confusion overtook her face. She leaned down a little.

"Mm? Yes?" she asked.

"I...I need help..." Bebe murmured, letting go of her coat, "I cant find my brother.."

The woman's expression quickly became concerned, and she glanced around for anyone that looked like the small brunette child.

"Oh sweetie, I'm sorry. We'll help you find him. What's his name? How old is he? What does he look like?" She sat Bebe down on the bench.

"H-his name is Jack... He's f-fifteen, I think, and he's got brown hair and eyes." Bebe explained, "We were skating, but... I think something happened a'cos I couldn't find him skating anymore."

The woman frowned and looked at all the faces of the people with brown hair that were around, but none of them belonged to teenage boys with brown eyes that were alone. Most of them were with adults or wearing hats so it was difficult to tell who was related to the little girl and who was not. Sadly brunette hair and brown eyes were a very common pair of traits.

"Stay here, sweetie. I'm going to go look for him, okay?" the woman asked gently, petting her head to comfort her.

Bebe nodded and sniffled again.

"Liam, stay with her, okay? Rodney, you too." the woman said to the man and boy. The only peculiar thing was the way she made hand gestures as she spoke.

Both nodded, "Of course, Millie. I won't go anywhere." The man, "Liam", said. "Rodney" put the boxes down and climbed up to sit next to Bebe.

"Millie" ventured off into the crowd, deciding to check the rink first.

Rodney swung his legs and studied the girl, freckles dotting his cheeks and chin to compliment his bright green eyes. She seemed really sad, so he thought of ways to cheer her up, like his dad would do whenever he was upset. He thought of something, then waved a hand in front of her face to get her attention. When she looked over he smiled big, showing a gap in his front teeth.

He did what looked like a brief salute, then put a palm to his chest, made both hands form closed two-finger shapes and tapped one over the other, and held up one hand. He made slow motions, first crossing two fingers, then making an O, pointing one finger up from that shape, folded two fingers over his thumb, curled his fingers back with his thumb low and curling that one too, and put out his thumb and pinkie.

He held that for a moment, then motioned to her with his palm, tapped his fingers together again twice, and put his palms up to face the sky, shaking slightly with a "what?" expression and mouthing the word.

Bebe stared at him with confusion, not knowing what to say or do. What was that? Some kind of handshake? No... It was strange, and he did it so fluently, like muscle memory.

Liam noticed this and chuckled, waving a hand in front of Rodney to attract the boy's attention. He made some weird hand motions too and motioned to Bebe. Rodney make a surprised face and looked back at her, smiling guiltily and rubbing his fist on his chest in a circle. He reached into his deep jacket pocket and pulled out a notepad, scribbling on it before showing it to her.

 **'SoRRy'**

Bebe read the crudely written word and looked up to Liam for an explanation. The blonde man laughed again and spoke to her.

"Rodney doesn't speak, he was using sign language." He explained.

"Why can't he talk?" Bebe asked, eyebrow furrowed.

"Well," Liam ruffled Rodney's hair, "because he can't hear. He's deaf."

Bebe looked at the boy and he grinned back, hair even messier from his father's playfulness.

"He told you his name was Rodney, and he asked what your name is." Liam further explained.

"Oh... I'm Bebe." She shared in a relaxed voice. She liked this family, they were nice.

Liam signed to Rodney that her name was B-E-B-E after confirming with her that that was how it was spelled. Rodney happily nodded to show that he got it, and signed something else for his father to interpret.

"Rodney asked what shows you like," Liam said as he took a seat between them for interpreting.

"Oh, um... I really like dancing shows." She smiled as she shared.

Liam watched Rodney sign and relayed the message back to her. "Rodney likes action shows, his favorite is Code Lyoko. Have you heard of it?"

Bebe shook her head, and Rodney made a silent gasp of shock. He quickly went into a long and exited, yet silent, rant about the show and what it was about. About the big kids that were sent into a video game world to fight ugly monsters and save the world from the evil computer bug.

"It's a good show." Was all Liam said before he laughed.

Right about then Millie returned with a worried face. "Sweetie, I couldn't find him. He isn't here."

Bebe's happiness had never faded so quickly in her life. She felt more tears well up in her chocolate eyes.

"Do you know your number? We better call your parents." Liam suggested, to which Bebe nodded glumly.

Millie lent the small child her cell phone and Bebe wasted no time in calling her adopted mother. Within twenty minutes both her parents were at the bench with her, her mother cooing and holding the girl while her father talked with Millie and Liam. When yelling Jack's name and searching every corner of the town square didn't yield their finding him, they called his phone multiple times, but he didn't pick up.

They called Jaime, but he was busy working and said he hadn't seen Jack. They called uncle Sandy and grandpa Manny, but neither had a clue of the boy's whereabouts.

North dialed one last number, 911.

 _Meanwhile..._

Pitch excitedly zipped through his manor, the last picture held tightly in his hands. This one depicted the boy unconscious and ready for him, laying in a guest room with his flawless frame beneath the covers. He ordered them to make him as comfortable as possible, and they complied perfectly. He giddily made his way to the guest room, turned the key into the lock and opened the door.

What he saw made him almost drool.

The boy was laying on his side with the covers up to his middle back, hoodie pulled up so he could see a small portion of the milky skin of his lower sides and V-line. His bound wrists were up near his mouth, covering it, and his beautiful eyes were closed as he slept. The boy was absolutely gorgeous.

Pitch quietly drew close and sat beside his prize, reaching out slowly and petting his side. He grinned, hand trailing down to touch the exposed skin of his hip. His touch was warm against the coolness of Jack's flesh.

He had everything planned out. Nothing would get in his way. Not even his own sinful fantasies.


	6. Creeping

When Jack felt his consciousness returning, the first thing he realized was that his body felt hot. Uncomfortably so. His back felt as though it was pressed to a heater and various places were misty with sweat. He brought a weak arm out from under the heavy covers and pressed it to his forehead, groaning as life returned to his scrawny figure.

"Awake?" A smooth yet low voice came from his side.

Jack murmured and opened his eyes when he felt a shadow loom over his heavy lids. What he saw was a grown man with slicked jet-black hair, tan skin and the most alluring golden eyes. Jack's oaky brows furrowed with confusion and his eyes slid back closed, cool hands coming up to rub them. He processed what was going on before realizing he didn't know where he was or who was above him.

"Whoa," he shot up and pressed his back to the headboard, "who the hell are you? Where am I?"

The man frowned at him, as if hurt, before tutting. "Please do not swear in my house, it is not proper."

"I don't care," Jack spat defensively, "who are you? Where am I?" He repeated.

The man turned his body to face Jack better, one leg crossed over the other, which was still positioned with his foot to the floor. He looked straight-laced. Jack hated prissy people, they were stuck up and had no sense of humor.

"My name is Mr. Black. But you may call me Pitch." He introduced himself. "You are at my manor."

"Black? Manor?" Jack was skeptical, but the expensive and stuffy room he was in begged to differ, so he believed it with a swallow.

"Why am I here? What's going on?"

Mr. Black grinned a little at the questions, which sent negative chills up Jack's spine.

"You are my guest here, until your... "parents", give me what I ask of them." He said matter-of-factly.

It all clicked in Jack's mind and he felt a twinge of fear. He was kidnapped. This man was holding him for ransom.

"What do you want from my parents?" He asked, and mentally cursed at himself for the slightly fearful wave in his voice.

Mr. Black's eye twinkled and his smirk grew. _"You, my dear boy,"_ he thought to his perverted self.

"A simple ransom. Ten thousand dollars." He answered instead.

"Ten thousand...? That doesn't sound like a lot." Jack's skepticism grew and he eyed the slightly open door. Had Mr. Black intentionally left it open? Or did he do that accidentally? Either way, he should have been able to use that chance to make a run for it.

"Perhaps not in your mind, young one." Mr. Black crossed his arms casually as if enjoying his time talking with the boy.

Jack needed some way to distract him so he could bolt but found nothing particularly useful near him. His hand graced over his pockets, but he didn't feel the hard telltale sign of his cell phone. His shoes were off so he anticipated that they found the pocketknife Bunnymund gave him... He was at a disadvantage.

"...What happens if they can't pay?" Jack asked though he had a vague idea of the answer.

Mr. Black shrugged non-importantly. "Then I'll have to keep you, won't I?"

That was enough for Jack, and he sprang out of the bed and made a beeline for the door. This caught his captor off guard and offered him the chance to grab the doorknob before he felt strong hands wrap around his body like snakes would a mouse. He struggled and thrashed to get away, but the man held him firm. Their bodies were pressed together tightly like this, and Jack could feel the pounding of the man's heart against his back. It scared him though he'd never admit that.

Mr. Black clutched onto the boy at the doorway for a few moments, waiting for Jack to tire himself out before turning around and forcing him to the floor. Jack panted beneath his captor, whom drew a knife from his breast and flicked it out of the handle. He trailed it down Jack's cheek gently, more to threaten him than break skin. He wanted Jack to remain flawless, perfect. Jack stilled when he saw the blade, his own heart picking up its pace and causing his blood to turn to ice.

"Look at me, Jackson," The man practically hissed, attitude shifted to anger at his victim's escape attempt.

Jack refused and turned his head away, not the kind of person to bend to another's will easily (unless it was Bunny, wink wink). Mr. Black was not happy with this and used the blade to turn Jack's gaze to meet his golden eyes. The blade was now positioned in such a way that if Jack turned again he'd cut his cheek.

"If you're good, I won't have to hurt you. Or your family. Just cooperate with me and you'll be home soon." He said calmly to the boy. His eyes gleamed and he smirked, adding a certain tone. "Be a good boy for me."

Jack felt disgusted by those words and heat flooded his cheeks and ears. "Pervert," he murmured.

Mr. Black acted as though he didn't hear him and observed the boy's face closely. There was that twinkle in his eye again before he removed himself from atop Jack. In a swift stride he exited the room, and Jack heard a click as the lock snapped into place.

Jack sat up and glared at the door. Kidnapped by a crazed madman who wanted him for ransom. He tugged a bit at his brunette hair.

 _Meanwhile..._

Bunnymund was clocked in at the tattoo parlor and working on a detailed Easter egg on his client's thigh. Every motion and swirl had to be perfect, or else he would end up with a very unhappy customer and his shop's reputation would decline from a permanent mistake. His focus was so intense that he didn't hear the current channel of the overhead TV until he was finished, and by then he had missed a good portion of the report.

What caught his attention was the name that was dropped.

 _"...anyone with information should notify the authorities immediately, Jackson North was last seen at the Burgess ice skating rink..."_

He perked up. Jackson North? As in Jack? _His_ Jack?

Bunny turned his gaze to the screen and saw the photo of the missing persons, and felt his heart drop into his stomach, get digested into amino acids and flush back through his system.

The photo was indeed of his little frostbite, taken seemingly a few weeks ago going by the sweatshirt he was wearing which Bunny gave him for his birthday. His boyfriend was standing casually in the photo with his hand in the blue hoodie pocket and the hood up. He had a large stick over his shoulder that he found, going off the forest setting of the picture. He was smiling- well more like smirking.

"Jack?" Bunny spoke to himself, "what about Jack?"

Paying attention to the rest of the report, Bunny learned of his boyfriend's disappearance. He went missing at the ice rink about twelve hours ago. His parents were worried, as one would expect. Bunny was concerned as well for his love's wellbeing.

Bunny had a long internal argument about whether or not to go to Jack's home and speak to his parents. But what would he say? That he was dating their son illegally and that he popped the boy's cherry on their second date? He sighed out and tugged a lock of blue hair in thought.

But when he pictured Jack in a cell somewhere, maybe battered or bruised, or worse, he felt his stomach lurch. He decided to close the shop early and grabbed his truck keys, heading out to his vehicle and getting inside. He revved up the engine and drove out of the parking lot. Bunny thought about what he'd do if someone hurt his lover all the way to Jack's house. He would probably be furious, throwing punches, kicks, slurs or worse. He would lay their ass out for touching the boy he cared about.

When he saw the crowded driveway he knew he was at the right house and parked at the curb, climbing out of the truck and locking it with the click of his keys. He approached the front door but was surprised at the number of voices he could hear through it.

 _"-he wouldn't leave her.."_

 _"Can you identify this glove?"_

 _"no, he doesn't know anyone like that-"_

Bunny took another breath before rapping on the hinged wood door. The voices inside went quiet as footsteps kept up. They sounded heavy, so he expected whoever opened the door to be big. And indeed, when the door opened, he was face-to-face with a big man. A big man with an equally large scowl.

 _POV Swap..._

North was frustrated beyond belief. Frustrated with himself for letting his kids go out without him, frustrated with whoever snatched his son away, and most of all frustrated at the police for their lack of information regarding his son's whereabouts or who would have taken him.

Bebe was in her adopted mother's arms and glumly asking when her brother would come home while Toothania soothingly shushed and patted her back and hair. The cops were asking about Jack's personal life, about his friends and classmates, if anyone would have wanted to see him hurt or if he had enemies. But North denied this. If Jack had any enemies you wouldn't be able to tell, he was like any teenager. All about technology and partying.

North heard someone knock on the door and parted from the pair of officers to answer it. He was thoroughly irritated so his face was not that of a happy, jolly toymaker like usual.

When he opened the front door he found a tall man on his porch. The man had rough features and different shades of blue hair, emerald eyes and scruffy stubble. He was wearing blue flannel and jeans, tattoos peeking out from the buttoned-up sleeves.

"..Can I help you?" North asked, cautiously and with obvious hesitation.

"Mist'er North? My name is E. Aster Bunnymund, but folks call me Bunnymund." The man introduced with a thick accent, clearly an Aussie.

"...Hello," North replied slowly.

"I'm here to tell you, I saw the news, and..." the man swallowed, "I know Jack."

North immediately sharpened his gaze, body tensing and eyes becoming wide with surprise. Was the tattooed man bluffing?

Without a word the Australian was beckoned into the house.

After only a few lines of explanation North snapped at him.

"You're _dating_ my _son?_ " North boomed, pounding a furious fist down on the table.

Bunny flinched and nodded quickly. "Y-yeah, we've been dating for a year or something... We went out the night before he disappeared."

"You're a man! A grown man!" North raged, "My son is only a child! And you're a _man!"_

Bunny went to argue, but bit his tongue and considered that. True, Jack was still just a child. Lost his virginity at fourteen to an adult with a job. Bunny felt a wave of guilt when he remembered how hesitant Jack was the first time, how scared he looked and his whimpers of pain from the first penetration.

"...Yeah." Was all he could say back. "But... I never hurt him. I didn't touch him, all we did was cuddle and make out." He lied. Convincingly, but still lied.

North looked like he was ready to knock the man right out, but with the officers present all he could do was growl in fury.

"Mr. Bunnymund? We need to ask you some questions." An officer butted in, leading the Aussie away to find out any details about their date night.


	7. NOTE, PLEASE READ

**(I am so sorry for the hiatus. I will be trying my hardest to continue with this, but I wanted to let you all know that I will be accepting prompts in the time being. As a make-up, you could say. My way of apologizing for being so lazy. I will not give up on this- I have plans. It's just difficult to execute them. So I would like prompts to keep my inspiration flowing. I can do nearly anything, as long as it involves a category that I am familiar with. If you are interested, here is the list...)**

 **(Hannibal, ROTG, Pokémon, Sherlock, Disney/Pixar (will be humanized if not stated otherwise), Naruto, Ghost Hunt (anime), AOT, Kuroshitsuji, Fire Emblem (Awakening/Fates), Harry Potter, OTGW, and there may be more and my tastes grow.)**

 **(Also, as you can probably see, I work best with dark themes, especially possessive/obsessive relationships, though I'm no fluff hater either. I have no real limit for lemons either, although hardcore BDSM would be difficult since I have no experience with it. I accept OCs as long as you provide me with a detailed description and profile, including sexuality/gender orientation/past/secrets.)**

 **( I would very much like to receive prompts, for the sake of my other stories. Thank you.)**


	8. Glaze

**(This chapter contains rape/non-con elements and drugging.)**

 _5 days later..._

Jack had been declared kidnapped. Although they had no leads yet, the police reasoned that one of the family's clients went south and wanted to get revenge for something by taking the boy. North was an agitated man and Toothiana occupied her time by soothing their daughter, accompanying her to school with an officer present as a precaution. They were worried that the kidnapper(s) would snatch her away, too.

The police were even more concerned when the third day went by and there were no ransom calls. The statistics weren't pretty. Some believed that Jack had run away and could be anywhere in the country by now.

It was safe to say that Jack's parents hated Bunnymund. North glared, insulted and belittled the man at every opportunity that was available. Bunnymund defended himself to the best of his ability, but still felt guilty.

Bebe began to spend time with her new friend, Rodney, as a distraction from her brother's possible abduction, departure or probable death. She liked Rodney, he was sweet and happy and playful. A free spirit with no limitations despite his difference. He didn't let his deafness get him down or hold him back. If anything it empowered the child to have such an individual trait to set him apart from the other children. Bebe found him to be inspiring.

Uncle Sandy and Grandpa Manny had come to the house as soon as they heard Jack was missing and offered their assistance to the best of their knowledge. But it never seemed to draw any likely scenarios aside from the one cause that everyone could agree on. Abduction.

 _Meanwhile..._

A few days cooped up in that bedroom was enough to drive Jack to utter insanity. The window was barred and locked, so he couldn't get out that way. And the door only opened when that creepy businessman would come to see him. He would do the same thing every day- come in at six o' clock in the evening, flash that perverted smile, give him some (shamefully delicious) food, assure him that no harm has come to his family, and promise to come back tomorrow before leaving him be.

Jack dreaded to admit it, but the only sensation of excitement that he found during the day was when he visited. It's not like the creep really touched or threatened him, he was just... well, creepy.

As if on cue the clock struck six and thirty seconds after there was the familiar jingle of a key in the lock. The door opened and he watched Mr. Black walk in. His sandy tan skin reminded the teen of his uncle's. He suddenly grew very homesick.

"Hello, my dear boy," the man came closer than usual and sat beside him on the bed, "how are you this fine evening?"

Jack decided to play sassy. Maybe he'd annoy the man into letting him go.

"Is it evening?" He rolled his eyes, "I couldn't tell, this room is so dark it always seems like nighttime."

He expected the man to frown, but instead, he got the opposite reaction. Mr. Black laughed at him. His chuckle sounded like the stuff of your most lucid nightmares, like a hyena's cackle after a witch told a knee-slapping joke.

"I brought you a treat," he reached into his briefcase and brought out a bottle of soda, "...for being such a good boy."

Jack hesitated but took the cold, fizzy drink from him. The cap was twisted on tightly and it took a surprising amount of effort to turn it off. Jack heard the satisfying sizzle and crack and reasoned that it was unopened. He brought the dark cola to his lips and thirstily drank down a good amount of it in one swig. Days on plain water had dulled his taste buds, so the refreshing and crisp taste of the soda was a blessing.

He noticed that the man was looking at him expectantly, and he rolled his eyes again.

"Thank you," he said in a mocking tone, "this makes up for _everything._ " Sassy sarcasm was his favorite.

"You're welcome," his captor chuckled again, as if amused by his attitude.

There was a moment of silence between them, and Jack eyed the door again. It was wide open. Again. This guy couldn't be serious. Leaving open the door when his kidnapped victim already attempted escape a mere few days ago? The teen set the bottle down on the nightstand. He knew he couldn't escape just by running, if this psycho didn't snatch him back up then his dunderhead goons certainly would.

He hadn't even realized that Mr. Black came closer until he felt the hot breath on his ear as the man leaned down and nipped at it.

"Hey!" Jack leaned away, but Mr. Black grabbed firmly onto his shoulder and rooted his arm around his back to keep him in place.

"Be still, my boy," he cooed in the bitten ear, his other hand trailing down the boy's soft hoodie-covered pec.

"Get off of me, you creepy pedo," Jack squirmed and tried to push him away, but the man had none of it and pinned him down with his wrists above his head.

"Only ten minutes to go. Then you will belong to me, boy," Mr. Black rumbled darkly, sitting on Jack's straddled waist to keep him pinned down.

"What the hell are you-"

Jack's words were swallowed up when the man bent down and kissed him. Everything in Jack turned to solid ice. His eyes shut tightly and he tried to purse his lips, to block out the invading tongue that prodded them, to preserve his delicate mouth for the one he loved, but Mr. Black grew frustrated with his refusal and pulled back on his hair, allowing Jack to cry out in pain, and took that chance to lock their mouths in a dominating and bruising lip-lock.

Jack felt his eyes bubbling up. Either with anger, fear or shame, he couldn't tell. It all felt the same in this moment. Those ten minutes that ticked by were the longest in the boy's life spent with unwanted kissing and the occasional grind of the man on his groin.

Jack was horrified to find his blood beginning to heat, skin starting to tingle and his breaths harshening. He recognized the sensations, these were the feelings of _arousal._

"Ah," Mr. Black grinned, "that's my boy, just sit back and I'll take care of you."

"No," Jack moaned out when the man began pulling up his hoodie and shuffled it over his head, dropping it elsewhere and running heated fingers down his cool chest.

" _Yes,"_ Pitch said slowly and dangerously, his eyes glazing over with quickly growing lust.

The unwelcome hand cupped his right pectoral while the other held his wrists firmly above his head, his pretty pink nipple beneath the hot palm and exciting a small, cut-off moan when Jack pursed his lips tightly. Pitch took that as a hint and began to rub his flat breast, forceful and roughly.

"Stop it," Jack said when he found his voice again, face very red, "I have a boyfriend, I don't want this-"

He was shocked and admittedly afraid when Mr. Black rose and loomed above him, eyes burning down into the boy with a sneer of hatred on his usually pervy face. He growled out and flipped the boy onto his stomach, with an "oomph" from Jack's lips, and painfully pinned his arms into the small of his back.

"Hey- ouch! Stop it! Get off of me!" Jack cried out, but his face was shoved down into the pillow to shut him up.

He was horrified to find his pants and boxers being harshly pulled off at once, leaving red scratches on his legs in their wake as Mr. Black slammed them down on the floor and used his own knees to part Jack's legs, rough jeans grinding him on the bare.

"Shut. Up." Mr. Black hissed, as if the object of his eternal obsession had spat on his name.

Jack turned his head and went to speak, but his captor pushed it back down, his nose smushed into his face.

"You belong to _me,_ boy. Not to that bogan dingo fucker _._ " He practically spat, livid.

Jack grew speechless at what his beloved tattoo artist had been called, and had no qualms about giving this horrid man a piece of his mind but he was silenced once again, this time in shock as his backside was harshly spread open to the point of stinging from the pull of his delicate skin.

"All of this is _mine,"_

A shiver-inducing finger rubbed his tender entrance. His eyes grew hot.

 _"_ Only for _me,_ "

It prodded, almost as if teasing him. And to his horror, his cock stirred to life from the slightly ticklish and very heated, tingly feeling to his most sensitive place. His cheeks were wet.

 _"_ I'll purify you of his _filth."_

Jack cried out as not one- but two digits shoved into his warm body at once, with no lube or preparation. Jack was humiliated, absolutely mortified. Not only from the violation, but also because his cock was achingly hard already from whatever drug was in his system. The pain would fade and be replaced by a numbing hotness, and further stimulation brought forth the euphoric pleasure that he had only received from his lover.

Anger and fighting spirit was quickly broken and instead replaced by fear and confusion. He wasn't sure what was happening or how he got here. All he knew was that there was an unbearable pressure in his privates and that he _needed_ some kind of relief, or else he'd go insane.

The digits scissored and twisted inside of him, effectively loosening up his tight hole and seemingly searching for something. Jack moaned, the tears soaking the pillow and in turn wetting his face messily. The fingers pushed past their knobby knuckles and hooked around his rim from the inside, pulling.

"I was planning on making love to you, tonight. Since it is our first time together. But now I'll have to punish you for speaking of that cunt of a man," Mr. Black uttered in his ear.

The pain of his throbbing erection was too much, and Jack sobbed once as he reached down to stroke himself. His shaking hand wrapped around his relatively small penis and he began to rub, up and down his length to ease some of his pain. It worked. _Very_ well.

He humped his hand as the pleasure built at a much faster rate, using his precum to lube his strokes. All the while the fingers inside him resumed to stretch him open, and they soon popped out.

He was flipped back over, Mr. Black now nude as well, but with his tie in his hands. He used it to secure the terrified boy's hands to the headboard so he couldn't touch himself anymore. He whined and tugged against his restraints, but they were too tight to allow him a window of opportunity.

Mr. Black stared down on him and his angry features softened when he saw the tears streaming down Jack's puffy cheeks.

"...I'm sorry," he said, cupping Jack's face, "I just love you so much, I can't bear the mention of you being with someone else."

As if that justified everything, Jack's panic betrayed his mind and he nodded, most likely to avoid the man's wrath any further. His captor smiled gently and kissed him again, softly, with delicate movements of dark lips on sore ones. Jack's mind grew fuzzy and his eyes slid closed, though rather tightly, and he whimpered into the kiss, his hips squirming.

The kiss broke and his captor looked down at his leaking manhood, a hungry gleam in his eye.

"Is my baby hurting?"

Jack nodded.

"Does he want daddy to take care of him?"

He nodded again, though his mind was a million miles away. He felt confused, scared and alone.

When a wet heat engulfed his dripping member, everything else fell away and he gave in to the darkness that clouded his brain.

He only hoped that the man wouldn't punish him for cumming as soon as the lips wrapped around his pulsating cock.


	9. Waterfall

Everything felt so _right._

The small, cool body swept up in his arms, the steady beat of the young heart against his bare chest, the soft hair tickling his neck and the angelic face that was cradled into it. Pitch grinned and tightly held the boy even closer to himself, listening to his even breaths.

Last night had been the best of the madman's life. He finally claimed what belonged to him and only him. He knew the narcotic wouldn't fail him, adding the aphrodisiac was icing on the cake to make the boy realize how badly he wanted his captor to touch him, examine him and _love_ him. He only needed to give him regular doses for a few more days, then it would have effectively taken over his young, tender mind.

But for now, he reached down between the boy's legs and found a deflated penis, and behind that he checked on his undoubtedly sore pucker. It felt a bit swollen, as you'd expect. He pulled his fingers away and put them back on Jack's head to keep him close.

He remembered every detail of the night. How delicious Jack's moans were even if he tried to keep them inside. His sobs were just as delectable, though, and his tears tasted so salty sweet that Pitch wished he could bottle them up and keep them for a treat. He even got Jack to plead for him, beg him so desperately to _let him cum already,_ Pitch didn't think that someone so young could last through multiple orgasms. Even if they weren't exactly welcome with open arms, instead with anguished sobs of _"why wont it go down?"_

Pitch chuckled as the boy stirred in his arms and his beautifully pale eyelids twitched and parted, revealing the sweet pools of brown.

"Good morning, snowflake," Pitch greeted him.

"...wha' 'ppened..." Jack slurred, rubbing his eyes with the back of his dainty hand. His head was pounding like a drum, and everything was so hazy.

"Don't you worry about what happened, my dear. Come along, now, it's time to get dressed."

"huh..." Jack pouted and turned over as best he could, but Pitch pulled him in by the waist and spooned the boy. Suddenly Jack felt his heart burst into action. The embrace felt... _wrong._ It brought chills to his small, fragile body, and the thunderous bang of his heart in his chest was stressful and anxious.

"It's almost time for breakfast. We're having your favorite since you've been such a good boy lately."

"My favorite...?" Jack felt pretty confused at that, his mind drawing a blank. He squirmed, but the man squeezed him.

"Yes. Blueberry pancakes." Pith tucked some of his flawless hair behind his ear. He took notice of a few white strands near the base of his neck.

"Oh..." The boy sat up a bit, or attempted to, either oblivious or uncaring that he was still naked. _Why am I so tired_ , the boy thought to himself.

"But first, we'll have to wash you up. Come now, I'll run the bath." Pitch patted his thigh and rose from the bed, picking up his pants and redressing himself from the waist down. Their shirts were tossed into the laundry bin. Jack followed his lead and stood on numb legs, easily toppling forward and watching the ground quickly approach his face, but he was caught in familiar arms and lifted up into another warm embrace.

Jack felt a horrible wave crash over him from his head and spread downward, like an avalanche. His ears feeling like they were about to combust and dark blotches speckling his vision. He shut his eyes tightly and looked for something to anchor his head to, fearing that if he moved it even slightly that the rush and discomfort would be replaced by stabbing agony. His attempts proved futile; and he immediately tucked his face further into the firm groove his temple found.

"Ah ah ah, be careful. Don't want your pretty head cracked open, now, do we?" Pitch chuckled, holding his newly claimed prize bridal style and walking out of the bedroom in long, elegant strides. He kept one arm looped around his victim's torso; under his arm; and around his knobby little knees.

Pitch knew that the drug was in full affect for the first dosage. Jack's ability to think for himself was being disrupted in this stage, and he was being left rather confused, allowing Pitch to plant the seed of doubt into the teen's mind about what was and was not. About what was and what was not what? Well, Pitch would be sure to remind him.

The man smirked giddily when Jack sucked in a few exhausted breaths, his voice a little raspy from the delicious sounds he made the night before, and grasped Pitch around the shoulders after the man "accidently" made a move as if to drop him. Oh, he played this boy like a piano, he thought smugly. Pitch offered his comfort to the terrified and confused teen by rubbing his chest softly with the hand placed there and kissing his cheek.

"Shh, it's alright, my sweet. I won't drop you. You're safe with me, snowflake," Pitch lied, knowing full well that his victim would have a fall soon.

Jack mumbled something incoherent in response, not wanting to look down. Suddenly the ground seemed to be a million miles away, and he feared that if he fell, he'd shatter into a million pieces, or that the shock and pain of a simple tumble would be equal to a blow from one of the villains from old comic books he read.

Pitch brought his hostage into a large chic bathroom, complete with a Jacuzzi bathtub, double sink counter, a sparkling mirror, powerful fan, plush black rugs, and a regal shower stall with tinted glass and ebony tile patterns. He set the small body down on his shaky feet, but Jack was quick to grasp the counter as his knees caved inward and he slipped down to sit on them.

Jack panted and dipped his head into the crevice of his elbow, hands reaching up to clutch the curve of the sink and feeling the slight sting of his sweaty palms being pressed tightly into the sharp corner of the tile. The fluffy rug tickled his sore, sore bottom. This didn't feel real for the poor boy. He hoped that soon his head would cool down and his vision would clear, that soon he could see where he was and how to deal with it. But his brain refused to function properly.

He hadn't even opened his eyes to see what... who again? Who was... who... he... he couldn't remember who he was, whoever that deep voice belonged to, was doing, before he was horribly startled by the crashing noise of.. water? No, not water, that sounded like... a waterfall! A waterfall? Where the hell was a waterfall? Was he floating towards one? Was this like those cartoons, where they hear a waterfall approaching, scream out, turn around, try to swim, and fall to their death? Was he going to die?

Jack didn't have time to panic before there were hands under his arms and pulling him up, slowly.

He opened his eyes and saw a mess of colors around a hazy, dark figure for a few moments. He also felt a wave of subtle nausea, but swallowed down the bile in his throat.

Pitch lifted his boy into the warm bath, helping him to sit down and taking note of the way his boy is acting. Indeed, the drug was working just as he hoped it would.

"Okay snowflake, close your eyes," he coaxed him softly, and when the confused brown eyes fluttered shut he took a washcloth from the counter and dipped it into the warm water to soak it thoroughly, bringing the heavy cloth up and wringing out the water as it trickled down Jack's back and gave the poor boy the chills. His nipples perked at the temperature change as his back quickly became icy, and Pitch hummed contently as he began to bathe his precious snowflake.


	10. NOTE EDITS

Hello friends- I apologize greatly for the extreme delay. There will be no new chapters yet; for I am instead going to be going back and fixing/editing the past chapters to better shape this to the image I have in mind. Thank you for remaining faithful and leaving so many kind reviews. I have finished editing chapter one, and it will updated immediately.

Once all the chapters are edited, I will begin to revise the draft I have for the upcoming chapter, and it will hopefully be added soon. Blessed Be.

Edit: I have finished all of the necessary revisions, and work on chapter 8 can begin. Thank you.


	11. Barbies

It would be hard to confess to anyone that he had a problem with sleep, but he did. He was a narcoleptic. Some days he felt like an alcoholic - unable to think of anything else but the craving. Sleep and Jack had a tumultuous relationship. He was constantly exhausted and wanting more, more, and would never turn down a nap. On the other side of the coin, or pillow, he despised it.

Does the need-hate relationship sound familiar? The same was true for addiction. Most addicts harbor an urge to hide what feels like a terrible secret, Jack included, though it's just biology. Worse than hidden mental battles are those that scoff.

Various relatives have fallen into this category and have tried to shame him awake over the years: _"If you loved me, you'd want to spend time with me while you're visiting; you wouldn't want to sleep."_

This ignited screams and fire in his head. Emotional blackmail doesn't work on a neurological disorder any more than it works tell someone with a heart condition that, if he loved you, he could walk up a flight of stairs without resting.

Perhaps it all came from his new routine and being able to indulge in this craving as much as he pleased. While Mr. Black- _("Pitch when we're alone, Jack")_ Pitch, was away at work for the day, the easiest way to pass time until he came to their room was to sleep the hours away. All Jack had to do was climb into the gigantic bed, curl up under the covers and close his eyes. Then, before he knew it, that familiar pressure would be on top of him, peeling back the blanket and kissing him awake.

As you might guess, the constant urge to sleep leads to interesting psychological encounters and relationship problems over the years, and at times he's questioned himself and his sanity. Whether it's sleep or cocaine, the feeling is that there's something badly wrong with you, or when you either go on a drug binge around holidays or fall into a coma-like slumber after a fight.

At the moment the clock struck three in the afternoon, Jack sat up in bed and rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he scratched his thoroughly messed hair. He gazed longingly at the clock, as if trying to will it to tick faster, to force time to fly by and bring Pitch back into the room. The stress of the wait proved too much after only a few minutes and he wrapped the blanket tightly around himself, his bare chest hot to the touch of his considerably cooler elbows.

The next three hours tick-tick-ticked by so painfully slowly. Every tock was a mark off of his checklist of set minutes until he'd be back and he wouldn't be my himself anymore. He considered falling back asleep but quickly dismissed it when the thought arose of being awake when Pitch returned, to be able to kiss him first and get even closer to that security even quicker.

When the clock struck six, he managed to slink off of the bed and stand in front of the door, his arms crossed and shifting his weight from foot to foot as he _waited_ for that goddamn second hand to make it's final half-journey around the number wheel. But as he waited in anticipation for the lock to jingle and to have his arms full of a tall, handsome man, he watched in horror as the hand resumed to take baby steps past the thirty-second mark and finish its journey to the monochrome 12.

Pitch has never been late before. Not once. Jack tore his gaze from the clock and stared at the door in front of him, tightening his crossed arms against himself and parting his lips. He gave a frantic glance back at the clock again, then back to the door. Thirty seconds became a minute. One minute became two. Two became three, and three became four. On and on the cycle went as his heartbeat accelerated stressfully at the possibilities ripping through his fragile mind.

A dozen scenarios played like movies in his mind's eye, and each left him even more stressed out than the last until he was ready to have a temper tantrum and kick the door to attract the man's attention, wherever he may be. But just as he pulled back his leg to do just that, the doorknob clicked and shook, then turned and the door pulled open. Jack felt every single muscle relax when his arms connected around that tall yet lanky frame, his face buried into those silky satin clothes and inhaling the oceanic scent of his body wash.

"Jack- you're awake," Pitch said, sounding surprised though gleeful at the same time.

"You're late," the boy croaked, not daring to tear his face away, "why?"

Pitch sighed and wrapped his arms around the brunette, stroking the white strands at the base of his neck and humming lowly as he pet his back with his opposite arm. Pitch internally smirked like a predator. After only a few weeks on the narcotic the boy was at his complete mercy and an anxious mess at him coming home only fifteen minutes late. Although Pitch had planned it, having stood beside the door for the remaining time and listening to Jack's nervous shuffling.

"I'm sorry, love," he lied, "I was caught in traffic. I came back as soon as I could."

Jack did not respond, he only huddled closer to him and finally lifted his face to stare at him. Pitch offered a comforting smile and smoothed his oaky hair back- noting a few more flakes of white- and pressed a kiss to his heated forehead. Jack melted under the affection and quickly captured the man's lips, craving his attention. Pitch happily obliged him and cradled his cheek as he massaged his lips with his own, easily dominating the submissive teen and reasserting his claim on him.

After a minute or two he slowly shut the door behind himself and ushered his lover into the bed, laying Jack down and climbing on top of him. Jack knew the drill well and tipped his head back to expose his throat the way he knew Pitch preferred, and the man set to work on undoing the buttons of his work shirt after tossing his coat aside.

 _Meanwhile..._

Bebe didn't want to go home. She didn't want to do much of anything, anymore. With her big brother declared dead and her parents' endless fighting about whose fault it was, she couldn't find it in her to do anything she enjoyed. It seemed...selfish. How could she possibly enjoy her games and movies and new cartoons if he was in the ground or at the bottom of a body of water, unable to enjoy anything?

The first time she tore off her Barbie's head was when the police officer said that Jack was dead. She was so angry, so sad, so _disgusted_ with herself that she twisted and pulled until the doll's bendy rubber head popped right off, and she forced it back on again as she got out her trusty markers and began to etch out those pretty eyes, those happy smiley lips, the bright pretty hair and light clean fingernails and toenails, and jolly rosy cheeks.

She bent the arms permanently out of place so she couldn't appear so happy and care-free. She shoved a nail she found in her daddy's workshop through the etched out eye and used messy red marker to simulate blood. She tore the clothes to shreds and twisted the legs, ripped off an entire arm altogether and hacked away at that blonde hair with a pair of scissors from the junk drawer.

She hated that Barbie for looking so happy. Jack used to give the dolls an airy and cringe-worthy high pitched voice that made her laugh as he made them complain about the Ken dolls and what kind of outfits to wear or were out of style. Bebe always said she'd never grow up to become a Barbie. She laughed when Jack said that if she did, he'd stop talking to her until she changes her mind. He had smiled and laughed as he said this, but now, he'd never talk to her anyway. He'd never talk to her ever again.

So Bebe hated Barbies. She hated digging for toys at uncle Manny's and finding those godforsaken dolls. She liked teaching them a lesson in being happy when she could never feel that way again, not without her big brother. She hid the dolls that she broke and mutilated in her backpack, but when they almost spilled out at school she was forced to bury them at the bottom of her toy chest and shut the lid on them.

Her parents locked Jack's room. They never set foot inside, the just turned the key into the lock when they received the news that Jack was most likely dead. Her mother looked very dead on her feet, no longer smiling and floating about like the tooth fairy. Instead, she was grounded, completely cemented to the earth with her wings ripped apart. Her father started hitting the bottle much more than he used to and often cooped himself up in his workshop to drink or throw himself into his ice-sculpting pastime, which had become his coping mechanism.

Bebe was so tired of her parents being so angry with each other. They fought, passed blame, pointed fingers and refused to accept any kind of responsibility. So Bebe started to pick fights at school so that she could stay behind and delay the time before she would have to go back to the broken house she once called home. A small part of her wanted to hate Jack for dying an tearing the family apart, but as soon as she would think about things like that, her gut would do summersaults and force her to feel sick with overwhelming guilt.

Rodney didn't go to the same school as her, but sometimes they would Skype with Liam or Millie there to translate his signing and her English, but she no longer felt that same enthusiasm to learn new phrases in sign language, or to even see his smiley ginger face. Because Rodney was happy.

Bebe sighed as she lowered her latest victim from holding her in her fist, allowing the mutilated rubber doll to fall onto her chest with her limp arm at her side.

She felt her belly begin to convulse as her chest squeezed a few times, and before she knew it, hot tears were drizzling her ears and seeping into her pillow as she sobbed and hiccupped for her big brother to _please,_ just come home.


	12. Breaking (Preview)

The mirror was his only.

Jack's room had a full-sized and elegant mirror that was positioned beside the dresser that faces the foot of the bed, against the wall and near the door. Jack often tried to ignore it since the guy that stares back through it just seems to be getting sicker and sicker. But today Jack had enough and plopped himself down in front of the reflective glass, crossed his legs, and straightened his back as he stared the other boy right in the eyes.

"Who are you?" He glared, noting the way that the other was copying him entirely.

The other quite literally took the words out of his mouth and for a moment, Jack could have sworn they had the same voice. But that couldn't be, there was only one Jack. He reasoned that he would have to be louder if he wanted the other to hear him, so he swallowed and rolled his neck.

"You can't be here," he spoke up.

The reflection stole his words, again, and increased its volume as well so that Jack's voice was swallowed up by the silence.

 _"You don't belong here,_ " the reflection continued, ruffling its half-white hair, _"you need to leave."_

"What are you talking about?" Jack sneered, "This is my home, it always has been. _You_ don't belong here, _you_ need to leave."

 _"Jack, you need to go home,"_ the reflection leaned forward and Jack felt his weight shift, _"he's not coming back."_

"He's coming!" Jack practically shouted, his hand placed up against the reflection's with the glass separating them.

 _"No, he's not."_

"Shut up," Jack growled, teeth grinding.

 _"You're going to be alone forever if you stay."_

"I. Won't."

 _"He's going to kill you."_

The crash was louder than his scream of pain when his fist collided with the mirror, and _jesus,_ the pain that exploded through his trembling hand was enough to make him bend over it and gasp with shock. He gripped his wrist like a vice and rocked back and forth as he took the pain in, analyzing every part of it. It felt... _different._ He hadn't felt this before... he felt empowered, almost. As though he created a sensation so _shocking_ and new.

The mirror was his only.

Because when Pitch came back that evening and found Jack sitting on the floor with sticky crimson caked to his arm and pants, the man had all the control again. He inflicted that wondrous pain on Jack as he washed and cleaned his cut knuckles and wrapped his hand up tight. Pitch never said a word, but he didn't need to.


End file.
